There are limits for a reason.

I don’t mean in a legal, ethical, or mathematical sense, though I suppose there are reasons for those limits too. I’m talking about mental and physiological limits here though, and probably spiritual ones as well, given how past experience has shown me how various aspects of the body, mind, and soul are all intrinsically linked in some way, shape, or form. That’s the human condition in a nutshell, isn’t it? To grow stronger, faster, and smarter as we progress through our trials and tribulations until our lives come to their inevitable end, only to enter the cycle of reincarnation and start a fresh life anew. Thus, our transient experience of a lifetime is also limited, in that most will shuffle off this mortal coil long before reaching their first century, without ever having come close to reaching their full potential.

All of which sets the standard for a Martial Warrior as one who seeks to surpass those mortal limits and become more than just human.

So why limit myself to a Path that has already been defined? Especially one which has no basis in empirical data and relies far too much on accumulated experience, which is hit and miss at best. Not to knock the wisdom of my forebearers, but I’d much rather build on a foundation of facts and science rather than unproven conjectures that ‘just work’. In fact, given how the Energy of the Heavens responds so strongly to emotions, I would argue that the process of harnessing it is so personal and intimate that it’s downright impossible to create a ‘standardized’ Path, something that works for 100% of the human population. Now granted, all this is merely a different and longer-winded way of saying we must each find our own Path, something everyone has been telling me since day one, but even a stopped clock is right twice a day and I’m a stubborn man who needs to justify what I believe in order to wholly believe it.

All that being said, I have pushed myself far beyond the limits of my… more than mortal yet less than divine existence, and the experience is unpleasant to say the least. Exhaustion doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel right now, so weary and drained it takes an effort of will just to remain standing on two feet, to say nothing of the effort it takes to keep my heavy head up and leaden eyelids open as the battle for Shi Bei surges to an all time high. My thoughts are sluggish and focus limited, and more than once I’ve found myself thinking about nothing at all as I slip briefly into senseless oblivion, only to come hurtling back to vigilant awareness as my Natal Souls remind me of the stakes at hand.

This would all be so fascinating if I wasn’t so exhausted, because despite teetering on the brink of collapse, my Natal Souls are still toiling away at near peak efficiency as they oversee the battle and everything else around me. There they sit in their uncomfortable office chairs, tap-tap-tapping away at their keyboards in an over-exaggerated manner while uttering some nonsensible quip every now and then. It’s shamefully cringe-inducing to hear them butcher a Scottish accent while screaming about how it ‘canna be done, captain’, but it’s all in good fun, so I can hardly deny them even this much.

Though now that I’ve experience my peculiar brand of humour second-hand, I’ll make a note to maybe cut back on the quips in the future, or at least verbalizing them in the presence of other people…

It’s odd seeing my Natal Souls so full of energy given how exhausted I am, but I suppose it makes sense. Despite being intrinsically linked portions of my soul, mind, and personality, they’re technically distinct spiritual entities and therefore unconstrained by the limits of my frail mortal shell, which raises so very many questions. How do they think if they don’t have a physical brain? They’re connected to mine, tethered to my body, mind, and soul in ways I can barely comprehend much less explain, but if they’re unaffected by my exhaustion, then it stands to reason they’re not using my poor, overtaxed physical brain. Maybe they have Spirit Brains, a central processing unit which the entirety of their Spiritual existence is built around, or maybe they are the processing unit in and of themselves, one that is merely shaped like me because I created them in my own image. I mean, even if they have hearts, lungs, livers, intestines, or any other sort of organs necessary for human life, my Natal Souls don’t need them to survive, because… well, they’re Natal Souls after all, not living, breathing, physical entities.

In short, my Natal Souls are really just another form of Keystone, complex ones capable of independent thoughts and emotions which are all derived from a snapshot of my own psyche. My Natal Souls work out of the Call Centre of the Void mostly because it keeps them out of the way while providing them with the necessary infrastructure to do their jobs without having to go through me. This means the Call Centre itself is another form of Keystone, and that it’s really just Keystones all the way down. This is an example of me taking the simple and making it complex, because most of what I can do is actually just based on a simple concept, that of taking an icon or image and using the memories and emotions it portrays as a means to express my Will.

So how would I simplify it? Well, the first thing that comes to mind is the fact that I have two Natal Souls on weapons duty. Given how my Spiritual Weapons are already akin to Keystones, couldn’t I just skip the middleman and just let my weapons control themselves? Theoretically, the answer is a resounding yes, but then it raises so many questions and concerns that I wouldn’t even know where to even start. A wise man once said, “When all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail”, a concept which could prove disastrous when applied to a sword that controls its own actions. There’s another saying that goes, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it”, but then you run into a concept known as the ‘Golden hammer’, in which you use the same tools to complete a new project even if there are vastly different constraints. The general idea of the golden hammer is that you’ve fallen into a comfort zone where you keep doing things the same way every time despite there being better alternatives out there, ones you might not even be aware of because you never bothered looking in the first place. You stick with what’s familiar rather than seek out more efficient methods, which isn’t always the best way to go about life. Take running for example. Everyone knows how to run, but it takes time, practice, training, and guidance to run using the most optimal method for the standard human person. Knowing this, I would not dare to even claim that I’ve mastered the use of Keystones, as I suspect there are a multitude of improvements yet to be made.

Plus, the idea of a Sword Soul just seems right, yanno? A spiritual Entity wholly focused on the Dao of the Sword, because it is a sword, and therefore One With the Sword in the most complete manner possible. Just imagine the heights I could reach with a Sword Soul guiding my hand in combat or fighting alongside me as an independent entity without having to dedicate so much real estate to the Call Centre of the Void. I’ve already determined that having the Call Centre fixed in existence within my Natal Palace is adversely affecting the flow of Heavenly Energy throughout my Spiritual System, but while the benefits far outweigh the costs, that doesn’t mean I should just accept the expense as a necessary tax and give up on trying to work around it.

A thankless task, this pursuit of the truth, but one I take great delight in. A shame all this war and bloodshed keeps getting in the way though, because I would love to start up a think tank of Martial Warriors dedicated to uncovering the secrets of the Dao and explaining them in a logical and coherent manner…

Despite feeling dead on my feet, I can’t help but smile as I consider the implications of everything I’ve discovered and put together these last few hours, discoveries which I suspect will not only take several lifetimes to unravel and understand, but will forever change the way the Outer Provinces perceive the Martial Path. A heartening thought to end on, because my singular brain cell is already overworked as things stand and I can’t afford to go out of commission just yet. Face and morale are reason enough to fight through the enervation, but the Old Wolf’s slumbering presence gives me even more motivation to keep steady and upright, because he is just too damn cute to wake and too precious to let come to harm. There’s something so endearing about how he just snuggled right up against me, resting his chin and chest against me with an oh-so-contented sigh. While it sounds weird and creepy, he does it in a way that is just so natural and… not innocent, but devoid of ulterior motive. He’s tired and needs a shoulder to lean on, but not just any shoulder. My shoulder, because he trusts me enough to let down his guard here in the midst of battle and wholly rely on me for support and protection.

It sounds a little rude and demeaning to even think it, but this is not a level of trust I would have believed a human being was capable of displaying. Not even babies are this trusting, since they’ll take the time to process new experiences before accepting or rejecting them, smiling or crying to express their satisfaction or discontent. As for the old wolf, he’s not exactly happy with the current state of affairs, nor is he wholly dissatisfied either, merely… accepting of his necessity to rest and of my ability to keep him safe. It sounds so simple and basic in theory, but the fact that he's able to instantly fall asleep only a few minutes after slaughtering an Enemy Divinity with a single punch speaks volumes to this trust and exhaustion. It’s more than just fatigue and physical exertion however, though that’s more of a guess than anything else, mostly because of the fact that Divinities are supposed to live for thousands of years, yet the Old Wolf is visually the most ancient of them all by far. Out of all the Divinities I’ve met, the next oldest looking one would be Vyakhya, pre-Demonification of course, but as far as I can tell, he was pretty young by Divinity standards. Then you have Monk Bones who only recently ascended, and gone is the skeletal, decrepit living corpse of old, replaced by a younger and healthier version of himself that still looks old, but not near-starved and dying like before. While it’s possible that a Divinity’s appearance is based on the age they ascended, there are shenanigans about that dictate their appearance and vitality, but none of this fits for Ancestral Beasts. Guan Suo remembered growing up alongside Ping Ping, and I’ve watched Lin-Lin grow from a bright-eyed adolescent into the beautiful and charming young woman she is today, meaning Ancestral Beasts most definitely are affected by the passing of time, and the old wolf is supposedly old enough to remember a time before the Saint’s Tribulations Mountains bore that name. That being said, I suspect Ancestral Beasts age similarly Martial Warriors, in that after reaching a point wherein they appear like a fit, healthy, and attractive sixty-year-old, after which they pretty much stay that way until they’re in their last half-century of life.

Take Grandpa Du for example, who more or less still looks fit as a fiddle and could run circles around me for days without rest. Without actually knowing their ages, it’d be difficult to tell if Grandpa Du was older than Nian Zu who’s a decade younger, or even my actual grandfather Naaran whose only eighty-years-young, yet bears a rugged, almost timeless profile that could put him anywhere from sixty to a hundred years old depending on the light. Then there’s the really old Martial Warriors, those with only a handful of years left to live. I’ve not seen it play out first hand, but I hear things, mostly from Yan who knows that Grandpa Du is fast approaching his limits. The decline hits hard and moves fast in those last few years, going from hale and healthy in body and mind to feeble and decrepit in a matter of months. The first example that comes to mind is Mitsue Juichi, who upon first impression cemented himself in my mind as an imposing, albeit slightly overweight and over-painted grandfather in the twilight of his life, but still healthy enough to go about his day without assistance. To say that his haggard appearance in Meng Sha came as a shock would be an understatement, though admittedly this was more so due to the lack of makeup and long weeks out in the desert rather than the two years that’d passed since I first laid eyes on him. Even then though, I could see just how much he’d declined since I met him almost two years ago, not just from the wrinkles on his face but his overall bearing which made it seem as if he had one foot in the grave.

Suffice it to say that Martial Warriors age gracefully, until they reach a certain point around a hundred and fifteen before taking a turn for the worse, assuming they ever make it that far. From what I’ve learned in Taddy’s lessons and real-life examples, there are plenty of health issues even Healing can’t fix, and the rigours of age stand chief among them. I’m guessing it has much to do with the mysterious Life Force which I only recently became aware of, the special ingredient that makes life… what it is, I supposed. The chemical X that gives us our kick, that ineffable quality which differentiates humans and animals from minerals and microbes, and an expendable source of power which even the Energy of the Heavens is unable to replenish, else why would the Old Wolf have ever allowed himself to grow old?

Philosophical musings aside, something tells me that the expenditure of life force is the reason why Buddy is so up in arms about my recent actions. Not just Healing Alsantset, which I will never regret, but because merging with Blobby comes at the cost of my continued existence. Now I’m not entirely sure what will happen if I use up all my life force, but I can make an educated guess and say it’d probably mean game over. I have far too much going for me in this life to risk re-rolling for my next one so early however, so this means no more merging with Blobby to Materialize my Domain, not unless my hand is forced. This gives me yet another reason not to escalate this war and turn it into a battle between Divinities, because it might literally cost me my life to stop it. Even though the Old Wolf quickly figured out how to keep the Energy of the Heavens from running rampant and nuking everything around him after a simple explanation, I lack the ability to do the same without help from an Elemental Spirit, help which does not come for free apparently. That being said, knowing that it’s possible without Blobby’s help comes as much relief, because it means I can eventually learn how to do it myself.

Still, seeing the Old Wolf pick up the trick so easily was an eye-opening experience indeed, once again showing just how far I still have yet to go before I reach the Peak. In fact, I would even go as far as to say that even Divinities have a ways to go themselves, because regardless of what lofty titles they might call themselves, they are still mortal yet. I’m not saying the Old Wolf is weak, and far from it in fact, for hidden within his seemingly simplistic punch was enough power to kill another Divinity with a single blow, a feat I’m not sure Taddy could match. My Teacher is a kind-hearted man who can kill you with a touch, but it’s hard to imagine him matching the sheer force of the Old Wolf’s punch. It wasn’t power derived from speed, as there was no sonic boom, nor was it raw strength either, seeing how the Phantom’s head didn’t explode so much as rupture into a puff of bone and blood. I have no idea how he did it, but the Old Wolf’s strike was more powerful than a hundred Shooting Stars hidden within the most simple and basic of straight punches.

And yet powerful though he might be, even he doesn’t have this all figured out, which shows just how far the Dao extends. Most believe that Divinities are the be-all-and-end-all to the Martial Path, because we see them standing up high and think they have reached the peak, but only those who have ascended to those same lofty heights can see the even taller mountain hidden within the clouds above.

As for me? Well, I’m climbing the same mountain as everyone else, but while others are making their way up the steep cliffs with little more than hands, feet, and grit, I’m doing my best to cheat my way to the top using whatever tools I can while simultaneously trying to build a ski lift, or at least carve out a set of stairs so others can follow in my path. Which way is better? Difficult to say really. Even though I’m progressing faster than my peers and might soon reach that first plateau decades before my peers, the others are going slow and steady while using the arduous journey to temper themselves along the way. Not to say my Path is wrong, but there are benefits and downsides to both, and it’s perfectly fine for me to make a few mistakes along the way, so long as I stay true to myself. I won’t lie and claim Zhen Shi’s offers to join him haven’t been even a little tempting, because I feel like I could learn a lot from his eight-hundred years of research, nor can I claim I don’t regret rejecting Shen Zhen Wu’s multiple offers to work together, but I’m… content with where my decisions have brought me. Would I do things differently if I could? Sure, but I could never bring myself to work with Zhen Shi, nor would I ever willingly sell myself into servitude and become Shen Zhen Wu’s back-up Seneschal, even if they shared a relationship that was akin to family.

All this means I will have to make do without their knowledge and find my own way forward, but let’s be real here; even if I had both Zhen Shi and Shen ZhenWu at my mercy and answering all my questions in full, I would’ve still ended up doing my own thing in the end, because that’s just the sort of person I am.

Thus, in order to learn as much as I can about the Dao, I do my best to remain conscious as I rest and recuperate while watching the battle continue to unfold. The first few minutes following the Phantom’s death are tense and filled with uncertainty as I dread the arrival of a second Enemy Divinity, but none are forthcoming. They’ve been cowed by the Old Wolf’s superlative show of strength, because no one could’ve ever imagined that the Phantom would die in one hit, and none are willing to dare risk his ire, not when he has no need to hold back. It wasn’t just his power that did it either, nor were my Aural Swords as defining a factor as I would like, because the most important reason why the Phantom died so easily is because the Old Wolf gives zero fucks. He had no proof I could maintain reality and keep him from nuking Shi Bei, nothing save for the word of three Divinities to go on. Even then, he didn’t hesitate to strike even before the Phantom appeared, his full power unleashed the moment he sensed his unsuspecting quarry approaching, all because he trusted me to do what he likely believed was wholly impossible or he didn’t care about the consequences if things should go wrong.

Probably a combination of both, but he held nothing back in that punch. A good thing too, because if he hesitated even for a moment, my Aural Swords would not have bought me enough time to avoid injury and the Phantom might have killed me outright.

It’s also possible the Enemy Divinities aren’t moving because they’re unable to find me now that Guard Leader has us both Concealed. Granted, I haven’t moved a single step which isn’t great, but even if I could bring myself to interrupt the Old Wolf napping with his chin on my shoulder, I’d really rather not move unless I have to, because I don’t have much in the tank left to spare.

As the minutes tick by and I find my bearings once again, I gather enough strength to fumble for a water skin and carefully quench my thirst before splashing my face to wash away the sand and clear my thoughts. A bit of prepared Deflection keeps the Old Wolf from getting sprayed, but given the violent fluttering of his wolfy ears, I suspect he noticed all the same. Muttering a muted apology, I take in the ebb and flow of the battle and notice a clear escalation of events as more and more Peak Experts are thrown into the fray. The reason is clear as the Runic Cannons sing their symphony of doom and destruction while raining intermittent death upon the battlefield, picking and choosing their targets carefully to make the best use of what limited ammunition remains. The Enemy is desperate to remove these devastating weapons of war from the battlefield, but thanks to Hongji’s careful instructions regard when and where to shoot from, the Cannoneers continue killing armoured Chosen in droves while their hidden protectors pick off the Wraiths and Peak Experts sent to silence them.

It's easy to see Hongji’s direct hand in all this, as well as Bai Qi’s orders on the other side, two brilliant tactical minds playing out a game of chess with the lives of millions at stake. A group of eight Peak Expert Chosen appear at the Northern gates in an effort to force their way through the Imperial blockade, a tempting target for the Cannons if there ever was one, but the defenders hold firm and fight on despite the odds stacked against them. Peak Experts though they might be, the Enemy Chosen will still need a few minutes to overrun the Imperial position, and as the seconds tick by in agonizing slowness, I find myself wondering just where the Cannons have disappeared to. Just as I ready to give the order myself, a trio of booming shots sound out, but not at the Northern Gate. Instead, it’s along the eastern stretch of the outer walls where Wugang, Yelu Shi, and OuYang YuHuan unleash hell upon a Concealed cadre of Chosen attempting to sneak their way through no-man’s land so they can flank the northern defenders. Only now do I realize the attack on the northern gate was a feint, a costly sacrifice to lure out the Cannons at which point the flanking force would strike, but Hongji was far too clever to take the bait. Not content with merely massacring the flanking forces, a dozen Imperial Peak Experts descend upon the Northern Gates from three directions, encircling the Enemy Chosen and slaughtering them in the chaos and confusion.

Similar scenes play out across the city, though not all turn out for the best as Hongji and Bai Qi trade move after move upon the chessboard that is our battlefield. Naaran leaps into battle with a feral snarl etched across his otherwise impassive expression, wielding his spear in a manner unlike any I’ve ever seen before. Given how it’s just a pointy stick, I figured there wasn’t much variation in how one would use it, a belief which was largely reinforced by real life examples. There are thousands upon thousands of sword styles, but most spear users fight with the same limited pool of stances and movements, ones generally meant to take advantage of their range. Stab, strike, and circle pretty much sums up the gist of spear fighting, or so I thought until just now as Naaran displays his true strength for the very first time in a feral and savage display of ferocity.

Against the Mataram Patriarch, he was restrained and defensive, because he knew he was outmatched in every measurable metric, but here on the wall of Shi Bei, he is in his element, for his strength lies not in duels, but in wholesale slaughter. Unlike dad who hunts his foes like a bloodthirsty predator, Naaran puts me in mind of a majestic stag, the king of the forest who stands firm against all comers. Though mild and benign in nature, those who test him will earn themselves the fury of antler and hoof, a picture which resonates with how Naaran fends off wave after wave of Defiled threatening to overrun my position. His Movements are unlike anything I’ve ever seen in the Forms before, different from anything I’ve seen from any other Warrior in fact. It’s neither graceful for beautiful, but rough and efficient, an almost boorish manner of fighting that is frighteningly effective, for he strikes to kill and nothing less. The spear comes alive in his hands, but not solely as a spear, sometimes appearing as club, or staff, or even a sword if need be. Never once does his weapon sit still in his hands, perpetually in motion as he sweeps his way through the crowd as if sweeping leaves off the stones of his courtyard manor. From his indifferent expression, it would appear as if his true strength is so deep and fathomless he has no need to give it his all, a laid back and almost casual style that explodes with speed, violence, and momentum without warning under threat, before returning to the calm and soothing movements that are deceptively quick.

This is my Grandfather, Naaran of the Iron Banner, a Warrior I would be a fool not to learn from.

Much as I would love to see more of him in action, my attention is split a thousand ways as the reports from my Natal Souls pour in. A reinforcing squad comprised of six of Nian Zu’s Famed Fifty fall into dire straits as they’re ambushed by Wraiths en route to reinforce the West Gate, and by the time Hongji musters up a squad to support them, only two of the six remain. Jeong Hyo-Lynn remains deadlocked with her formidable Half-Demon foe, until a second hammer-wielding Bristleboar throws himself into the fray and sends the Sword Saint flying from the battlements. Reeling from the impact but largely uninjured, the formidable widow recovers just in time to avoid death at the hands of a third Bristleboar hammer brother, and against all odds, she remains unscathed as she retreats before a flurry of blows from the well-coordinated trio. Unwilling to pursue her too far beyond the outer walls, the Half-Demon Bristleboars turn their attention back to the post the Sword Saint had been forced to abandon, no doubt intent on wreaking havoc upon the Imperial defenders, but Hongji is two steps ahead of the three little piggies and sends the big bad wolf over to dispatch them.

Namely my dad and hero, Baatar of the Bekhai, who falls upon those Bristleboars in a fury alongside Gerel and Yaruq. Together, these three Warriors of the Iron Banner make short and bloody work of their unprepared foes in a show of unprecedented coordination. It all happens in the blink of an eye as Yaruq breaks open the Bristleboar Brothers’ formation while Dad brings down the Crescent Moon upon his chosen target, smashing through the formidable Half-Demon’s guard and leaving him wide open for Gerel’s killing blow. Distract, overpower, and kill, each Warrior plays their role to perfection like cogs in a well-oiled machine, and this scene repeats itself twice more in quick succession until the hammer brothers are all dead and gone, their bodies already melting away into the sand even as Dad’s figure fades into Concealment before padding off in search of yet another target.

A shard of ice hurtles through the air only to be swept away by a firebird of Tenjin’s crafting, the flames so detailed and lifelike it’s a wonder it doesn’t sing and chirp along the way. Though unable to match a Peak Expert in one-on-one combat, Tenjin is more than capable of keeping Mao Jianghong in check unless the former Guard Captain of Sanshu cares to show his face and engage in melee combat. Never one to sit idle, Tenjin conjures a second firebird to replace the first, and I can only watch in befuddled amazement as it flaps its wings and takes flight with the same effortless grace and control I’ve seen from Roc. As it soars through the skies, it unleashes feathery bolts of flame down upon the Defiled below, and while its effectiveness is far from a match for Yan’s seemingly endless Wind Blades, the firebird’s circling presence overhead is enough to unnerve all but the most fearless of foes, for one can never be sure who Tenjin will target next.

Broken Blade Pichai holds firm atop the battlements even as his fellow Southerners die in droves, a single sword holding back the tide threatening to engulf and overwhelm him. The Chosen Runic Armour might as well not exist as his sabre homes in on every weakness and opening presented to him to kill his foes outright. It’s not speed or power that makes him so formidable, but sheer precision and foresight, skills he no doubt honed for more than half a century while suffering from the effects of a Shattered Core. While far from the strongest Warrior on this battlefield, I would daresay claim that none could surpass Broken Blade Pichai in sheer willpower alone, and for this, the man has my heartfelt respect and admiration as he holds out long enough for reinforcements to make their way over to his side. When the tide of Defiled is finally thrown back, the stalwart Southerner staggers ever so slightly before straightening up to stand tall, for even with a Half-Demon’s spear embedded in his chest and lung, he refuses to show weakness before the Enemy.

Though he was of no help to me in restoring my Shattered Core, I never held that against him, because he was living proof that the pain and suffering could be endured. Without him, I might well have given up in despair, because even though they called him the Broken Blade, his spirit remained whole and unbroken even after so many years of suffering. It warms my heart to see his name returned to glory, and now that his Core has been restored, I sense that he might well rise up as the next Living Legend of the South, surpassing even Marshal Quyen Huong and his chosen patsy of a Colonel General, Nanda Bayin.

All across the city, more and more Imperial Peak Experts reveal themselves to stem the tide of Enemy Peak Experts, Chieftains, Chosen, and Half-Demon alike. We might be outnumbered by the rank-and-file, but at the highest level of Martial Skill, the Imperials hold the upper hand so long as the Demons are kept in check. The battle will be hard fought, but the victor has yet to be determined, with thousands dying every minute as the battle accelerates to new heights. Even the Old Wolf is no longer able to ignore it as he mutters something about immature pups before disappearing from my side, leaving me alone once more on the battlements. No matter how hard I try to predict the flow of battle, it’s all but impossible for me to make sense of the madness as Hongji pulls out all the stops and deploys every single Peak Expert available to him save for one, namely Akanai who remains Concealed and ready to strike down Bai Qi the second he makes a move himself. The Enemy Commander General has yet to show his face since my arrival, and he'll hesitate to do so until Akanai reveals herself, because she’s put him in his place twice before and now he lacks the courage to try a third time. This alone is enough to raise the spirits of the defenders, for though the tribesmen and Chosen still outnumber the Imperial rank and file, we are slowly but surely whittling away at their numbers while our Peak Experts go toe to toe with their best and brightest, and even the greatest Warrior of the traitor legions is still too afraid to show his –

A whisper of warning is all I have before a wall of water surges into existence before me, because even though I have been content to stand in place like a fool, Pong Pong has never once let his guard down since our arrival in Shi Bei. It’s his water shield that saves my life, but even he is not powerful enough to stop the Lord of Martial Peace as he brings his Green Dragon Crescent Blade down in a powerful killing blow. The water parts before the Honed edge of the tinted Spiritual Weapon, but not fast enough to avoid the explosive sonic boom trailing in the polearm’s wake, one which Reverberates off the nine rings embedded in the back of the blade to even further Amplify the weapon’s speed and power. That’s all I can see in the brief glimpse I catch before it arrives before my eyes, the Prince of Barbarity himself deigning to make an appearance just to take my lowly life. In his eyes, the battle is all but won once I’m taken off the field, for then his army of Demons can sweep forth to relieve the beleaguered Defiled Peak Experts while the Half-Demons unleash their emotional Aura with only Li-Li to defend against it. All of this flashes through my mind as the Green Dragon Crescent Blade descends upon me, and without Pong Pong’s assistance, I might well already be dead, but his efforts bought me just enough time to put my newfangled theory to the test, albeit in circumstances far more dire than I originally imagined.

Forget chemical compounds, electrons, quantum physics, and all that nonsense. All of that is useful, but far too complex for me to understand just yet. I have a tendency to take the simple and make it complex, by taking a simple premise and trying to break it down into its core components in order to study and understand its inner workings. The Abbot has long since touted this, and I wholeheartedly agree, but I also believe his method of oversimplifying things is also flawed in its own way. He’s someone who believes what goes up, must come down, and that is enough for him, but even though I don’t disagree with the statement, I would much rather look into the matter and find definitive proof. Neither of us are wrong, not exactly, but neither of us are right either, because there is a time and place for each method depending on the situation.

So for now, I must embrace ignorance and just go with what I know works, and what I know best is crafting Keystones.

There within my Natal Palace which is not a Natal Palace, I neither struggle nor surrender as I harness the Energy of the Heavens to clad myself in my replica Legate’s armour, complete with personalized animal motifs and runes that aren’t really runes, because I just made everything up in my head. That doesn’t matter though, because even though the armour this image was based on wasn’t Runic in nature, the armour I wear within my Natal Palace is most definitely Runic Plate, simply because I have Willed it to be so. Of course, the armour is worn only by my Soul within the Void, and will do nothing to stop Bai Qi’s massive glaive from cutting me down where I stand in reality. As I Deploy my Domain however, I envision it plating my physical form in the exact same manner as the Runic armour within my Natal Palace, a feat easily accomplished thanks to the link between my body, mind, and soul, a rudimentary one formed by the incomplete refinement I’ve already undergone. Though invisible to the human eye, I can feel my Domain as it billows out across my skin and takes shape in the physical world, the contours and edges settling in against my frame like a true suit of Runic Armour would. This is not merely Domain Plating, nor is it Domain Manifestation, but something that is more than the former but less than the latter which will protect me better than any real Runic Armour ever could.

The blade strikes true against my left shoulder, but the roaring bear pauldron catches the bulk of the force. Even knowing how strong Bai Qi is, I am both figuratively and literally blown away by the sheer power of his attack. This is more than mere muscle, Reinforcement, and Amplification, more than the Honing and Reverberation which I’ve already noted. No, his power stems not from a combination of skills, but a melding of them to form something else altogether, a force I’ve no name for just yet. Were I wearing real Runic armour with a Core to sustain it, this singular strike would be enough to drain my reserves dry and overpower the Runic defenses, but the Heavens surge through me in desperate desire to heed my Will. The ‘Runes’ hold fast, and the brunt of the blow is absorbed by a combination of defensive forces that let only a fraction of a fraction of Bai Qi’s attack through, but even this miniscule portion of remaining power which seeps through is enough to rip the air from my lungs and send me hurtling away at breakneck speeds.

Beneath the pauldron adorning my left shoulder, the skin splits, muscles rupture, ligaments tear and bones fracture beneath the force of Bai Qi’s blow, and the whiplash as I tumble across hard stone into a sea of armoured Imperials is nothing to sneeze at either. Coming to a crashing halt against a tower wall some fifty plus metres away from where I originally stood, I do my best not to throw up as I sink into a boneless puddle of relief and vindication, because the Keystone Runic Armour actually fucking worked. A stream of cool energy surges through me as Taddy sets to mending my wounds, and the sight of my sweet wifey’s beautiful brown eyes fills me with love and joy as she holds maybe two-dozen fingers up in front of my face to check if I have a concussion, but that’s all beside the fact. No, the true reason for my near maniacal laughter is because even as Bai Qi’s glaive rocked my world and nearly ended my whole career, I was able to catch a single glimpse of the Enemy Commander’s face, and it is a sight I will never forget so long as I live and breathe.

For the Lord of Martial Peace never expected the Herald of the Storms to respond so quickly to his attack, and the look of sheer surprised panic etched across his features as my Grand-Mentor’s twin-crescent halberd swept towards his neck is well worth the price of admission.

Get fucking rekt Bai Qi. Check and mate, bitch.

Chapter Meme